


Easy Does It

by Dreamnorn



Category: Total Drama (Cartoon)
Genre: Dawn ships Jock and drags Cameron into helping her, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Jasmine is Tired™, Jasmine/Shawn, Jo is stubborn and Brick is pure, Leshawna/Harold, Mutual Pining, One-sided Dave/Sky, Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Sky/Lightning if you squint, Slow Burn, There are other relationships too but they're not mains, at least as pure as teens can be, ditto for Dawn/Cameron, it's rated T for reasons, oblivious to love, rivals to friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-06-06 19:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15202142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamnorn/pseuds/Dreamnorn
Summary: Neither of them were there to slack off; winning Total Drama is by no means simple, after all. But tackling the show seems like a piece of cake compared to this. How is it so easy to fall but so hard to work your feelings out?





	1. The Establishing Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jo is as sure of herself as ever, but ugh, it’s taking some effort. How bizarre. Brick being involved is probably a coincidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve enjoyed Total Drama ever since it came out, but recently I gave each season a fresh watch. The result was inspiration! I’ll admit, I haven’t written fanfiction in a while, but I shouldn’t be rusty since I’ve worked on original fiction quite a bit in the interim. However, this will be my first attempt at characters who aren’t my own for the first time in several years. I’ll try my best to do them justice!
> 
> Speaking of doing characters justice, this fanfiction takes place in an AU where All Stars never happened. Not to say that All Stars was devoid of good things, but... oof.
> 
> For reference, the Total Drama teams here are:
> 
> The Modern Magpies: Brick, Jo, Dawn, Cameron, Lightning, Jasmine, Shawn, Sky, Dave, Sugar
> 
> The Classic Cuckoos: Leshawna, Lindsay, Courtney, Gwen, Duncan, Owen, Alejandro, Sierra, Harold, Noah
> 
> Enjoy!

It was bizarre how comfortable this felt. You’d think after a year, Jo would be over the thrill of beating Brick at his own morning workout, but no. It gave her exactly the same rush as before. Passing him, seeing his determined grit as he sped up, feeling a spark of resolve to do the same, and ultimately returning first with a breathless Brick not far behind….

It felt good, familiar, and -- above all -- satisfying.

As she passed through the trees and back into Pahkitew Island’s new (and legally-sanctioned) campsite, Jo skidded to an abrupt halt and whooped. Her voice was raspy from lack of breath, but she couldn’t care less. Not even a few seconds later, Brick stumbled to her side and hunched over with his hands on his knees. He was drenched from head to toe in sweat and panting after the 8k jog. Once she knew he was there to witness it, Jo bounced on her aching soles and threw her fists in the air while sporting a triumphant grin.

“Victory is mine!” Jo watched Brick place a hand against a nearby tree, trying to support his jelly legs. She shot him a smug smile. “Looks like fashion school made you soft, Sergeant Soggy.”

That was nonsense and she knew it; judging by their race, Brick was at least as strong as the last time they were on _Total Drama_. But resisting her urge to heckle was nearly impossible. It was second nature for Jo, especially when it came to those she considered competition.

…Even if they _were_ technically on the same team.

Despite himself, Brick managed to grin and puff out a response as he tried to stand up straight. “On the contrary, ma’am! I… whew….” He hunched over again, rubbing the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. “I continued all my standard training routines… _and_ added new ones to boot….” Brick’s voice fell to a mumble afterwards -- something about his sore legs or whatever -- but Jo elected to ignore it in favor of continuing their banter.

“Such as?” Whatever he was doing, she could top it in her sleep.

“Well….” He finally managed to stand tall, pausing for a moment to wipe his palms on the sides of his pants. Jo’s grin intensified when she saw he was still trying to steady his breathing -- a feat she had accomplished already. “First off, staying in one pose for three straight hours isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

Jo could tell by his tone that he was partially joking, but her eyes lit up with devious humor at the implication. “No fricking way. You modeled?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that modeling for one another was a requirement in several courses.” He crossed his arms before giving her a confident smile. “That, and I’m of the belief that anyone can be a good model with the right designer and a flattering outfit.”

Jo rolled her eyes, her smile slipping away. The instant she heard the words _flattering outfit_ , her mind wandered to claustrophobic memories of herself in the frilly pastel jungles that most people called ‘the women’s section.’ Needless to say, she was at a loss when faced with the cornucopia of more feminine clothing options. But she was Jo, damn it, and Jo hated being at a loss with anything -- uncertainty was for the weak. So it was all sweat jackets, tracksuits, and gym shoes for her, thank you very much.

“Yeah right,” she scoffed, crossing her arms and blowing a stray hair off her face.

Brick eyed her for a moment. His smile softened and half of his unibrow quirked up. “That includes you, you know.”

Jo’s whole body shivered slightly before going rigid -- an odd feeling, but far stranger and more pressing matters caught her attention first. These would be Brick’s tone of voice, its earnestness, and the coincidental warming of her face. Certainly the latter had everything to do with the rigorous exercise and the ridiculous concept of herself as a ‘model.’ To link it with the shouldn’t-count-as-a-compliment Brick paid her would have been absurd, and she perished the ludicrous thought the instant it dared come to mind.

Her eyes narrowed. “Is that a challenge?”

“Well, I suppose, if you want it to be.” Brick kept his good-natured smile, much to Jo’s… annoyance? Yeah, that must have been what the clutching sensation in her chest was. She watched as Brick began stretching his legs now that he had recovered a bit more from the intense jog. “If I can do it, there’s a strong chance you could too. Frankly, I’d suggest thinking about it.”

Jo’s response was a reflex. “Nice try, Major Moist, but flattery won’t get you anywhere. Just who do you take me for?”

Brick held up his hands, his face falling. “Point taken, ma’am. The offer remains open if you change your mind.”

Jo’s eyebrows nearly rose off her head for a moment before she forcefully dragged them down. She didn’t like something about Brick’s expression, but more importantly, what the hell was up with his brain? He must have had screws loose if he thought she’d ever think about modeling for him. Why would she ever consider standing in one place for several hours, fitting for an outfit that was likely too girly for comfort, stiff and still as Brick’s hands kept sweeping close to her body, watching him as he diligently ensured not a scrap of fabric was out of place, occasionally _actually_ feeling him brush against her and…?

“…Hello? Jo? You in there?”

Her reverie was broken when her eyes caught Brick’s hand waving in front of her face. Jo nearly choked before reflexively grabbing Brick by the wrist and flipping him to the ground. He belted out a distinctly unmasculine yelp as he landed flat on his back, but Jo couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad at that second. Her mind was far too busy reeling at what the _fresh hell_ she just pictured.

“Never do that again!” she barked.

Brick’s eyes appeared to be spinning. He shook his head vigorously before looking up and saluting at Jo’s looming form. “Sir, yes sir!”

From where Jo was standing, it almost looked like his face turned red -- a trick of the light, she was sure, but she’d rather focus on anything but the lakewater-induced delusion she’d just experienced. Funnily enough, she felt some strange fluttery nausea while looking down at him this way, but it was a feeling Jo locked up with her usual brand of confidence. It’s not like Chef’s food was made to sit well, anyway.

“Good.” She held out her hand to Brick in a silent offer to help him up. “And put your hopes in something reasonable, Brick-for-brains. You know,” she added, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “like zombies being real.”

“Glad to know someone has common sense!” came a distant shout.

As Brick took her hand, Jo’s eyes flicked in the direction of Shawn’s voice. Their teammate might not have been visible in the trees -- he had a gift for camouflage, she had to admit -- but now that Jo knew he was listening, her eyes glimmered. This was the perfect chance for her to play along, get on Apocalypse Nut’s good side, and keep her head in the game.

She was better off focusing on that than the brief contact between her and Brick’s palms, that's for sure.

Once she helped Brick up, she dropped his hand quickly and yelled towards the trees. “It’s always best to be prepared!”

“Fair,” came Brick’s voice from beside her. He was now standing at attention and gave Jo a polite pat on the shoulder. “Until later, then. I’ll be in the mess hall.”

At that, Jo was hit with another weird abdominal pang. Damn, Chef really must have outdone himself with culinary disgustingness today. But hey, if Brickhead wanted to arrange his funeral by eating rotten food, she could always push him to go for it. If he could stomach it, then props to him -- maybe he’d have a bit more fight on their next jog. And if he couldn’t and it came back to haunt him on their next challenge… well, that’s one potential distraction she could convince the others to vote off. Not the kindest plan, but a decent strategy nonetheless.

“Aww, did someone miss breakfast?” she cooed in a syrupy voice.

Brick paused. “Intentionally. I’ve read that it’s better to exercise before eating.”

Jo shook her head, smirking with disbelief. “That smells like bullcrap to me. No wonder I beat you so hard!”

At that, Shawn leaped down from the canopy and stuck the landing. “I don’t know,” he puffed, dusting off his bark-scratched hands on his orange safety vest. “It looked pretty close to me.”

Brick perked up at this affirmation and gave Shawn a cheerful salute. “Thank you, teammate! I was well-motivated to run at top speed.”

Jo was about to narrow her eyes at Shawn and contest his statement, but after hearing Brick’s response, she practically preened herself. Goddamn right, beating her in a race was proper motivation. Maybe she hadn’t given him enough credit.

Before that train of thought could travel further, it was derailed by a gasp from Brick. “Shoot, that reminds me! Ma’am?” Jo met his gaze, only to see the junior cadet give her a serious look. “It’s my duty to inform you that your hoodie has been soiled.”

“Wha--?” Jo looked down, gripping the lower hem of her sweatjacket and pulling it forward. Sure enough, there was a slimy-looking green substance sticking to the fabric that -- apparently -- she had run around the entire island with.

She growled and balled her hands into fists.

Shawn’s eyes widened. He backed away slowly, pointing behind himself. “I’m, uh, gonna wish Jasmine a good morning. Later!” He then made the intelligent choice to spin on his heels and tear like thunder towards the cafeteria.

Brick was slower on the uptake. “At least now we know avocado is definitely your color.”

“Oh, is it?” She cracked her knuckles. “Just when did you come to _that_ conclusion?”

“At… uh….” The gears noticeably began to turn in Brick’s head when he realized the nature of this situation. He swallowed, his eyes shifting. “…When you started jogging.”

“And why did you fail to tell your captain about the mess, _soldier?_ ” Jo punctuated her question by jabbing at his chest with her forefinger.

Brick frowned. “I tried to, but you kept running faster!”

Jo scowled and rolled her eyes before shoving Brick aside. “Whatever, Lieutenant Leaks.”

She pushed him with a bit more force than intended; Brick lost his balance and landed on his rear with a yelp. “Hey!” he objected, but Jo was more than done with this conversation and already stomping away. Before she could smother it, she felt a prickle in her gut for perhaps being a bit to aggressive with him -- it did seem like he had good intentions, after all -- but she tried to shrug it off because, damn it, he was the one who got distracted. Even outside of challenges, getting distracted is a luxury no camper can afford. To get anywhere on _Total Drama_ , you have to keep your eyes on the prize.

She carried herself with the mantra that drove her forward: _I’m on this show to win._ That was her goal. Nothing would distract her from it -- that’s what she told herself from the start.

And yet the prickling feeling remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I characterized Jo okay! Feedback on that (or any other aspects of this story) is encouraged and appreciated.
> 
> The next chapter will introduce more characters in the supporting cast (more specifically the members of Jo’s and Brick’s team) and will also include a sequence in Brick’s point of view.


	2. It's How She Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jo and her attributes are the topic of the day. Brick makes it his mission to set the record straight to a bitter teammate. Little does he know that Jo is on a mission of her own.

“Shawn, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” Jasmine smiled and patted her boyfriend’s back.

“You didn’t see the bloodlust in her eyes,” he countered, curling up next to her. His body eased at Jasmine’s touch, but his eyes were still wide, anxious, and alert. “It reminded me of one of my favorite scenes in _Undead Cleanse IV_ \-- the one where the captain has to strike down the mad scientist who synthesized the zombie virus.”

“Spoilers, much?” remarked Duncan from the other side of the cafeteria. The delinquent was idly carving something into the wooden table, not tearing his eyes away from his work. Besides him, a few other first generation cast members on the opposing team seemed to be eavesdropping with some amusement. Noah ribbed Owen’s side, whispering sarcastic quips at the expense of Shawn and the Modern Magpies. Lindsay turned to Gwen and asked if it was possible for her to sympathize with a virus, too. The other members of the Classic Cuckoos preferred to whisper amongst themselves.

However, Shawn ignored the peanut gallery and sighed, burying his face against the comfort of Jasmine’s shoulder. He lowered his voice so that only his team could hear him. “Anyway, that might have been an epic cinematic moment, but I didn’t think I’d see that look on a person’s face before the apocalypse.”

Lightning let out a boisterous laugh. “Man, then you definitely don’t know Jo! Dude’s got one hell of a scowl.”

Sky quirked a brow, flicking her gaze up to Lightning as she attempted to remove her spoon from her bowl of gruel. “Didn’t Jo tell you she was a girl last time you two were on the show?”

“Lightning remembers! Lightning’s got a strong memory. I build all my muscles, including my brain!” He tapped his head.

“Actually, the brain is an organ,” Cameron interjected.

Lightning ignored him and puffed out his chest. “Calling Jo _dude_ is just a reflex. You all know I got the best reflexes -- next to you, Sky. You sha-ruled at the reward challenge!” He leaned forward against the table, offering Sky a brofist and a bold, genuine grin.

Sky perked up at the compliment and smiled back, leaning forward to return the fistbump. At that moment, Dave’s bowl clattered to the floor, loudly interrupting things as he abruptly stood up. “Well _I_ for one-- err-- don’t blame Lightning for mistaking Jo for a guy for so long.” He swallowed as the others looked on at his outburst with confusion. It took him another second to speak, faltering under the realization that he had just become the center of attention. “Uh, what I mean is that she’s surly and domineering and… well, she isn’t exactly the prettiest, either.”

“Darn tootin’ she ain’t!” Sugar laughed, wiping gruel off her face with the back of her arm. “That honor goes to me!”

“Sure, Sugar,” Cameron mumbled, clearly not buying it. After that, he tilted his head at Dave, his brows furrowing in disapproval over his round spectacles. Cameron wasn’t alone; at the rude comment towards their teammate, Jasmine grimaced, Sky glowered, and Lightning winced.

“Sha-dang, brother,” Lightning puffed. “That’s kinda harsh.”

“Are you kidding?” Dave babbled. “You’re one of the players who spent two thirds of a season dealing with her bad attitude! Heck, I haven’t known her for 24 hours and I’m already convinced that she’s the last person I want to see in a dark alley.”

Sky stood up with a huff, slamming her hands on the table. “There’s no reason to talk about Jo that way. Like her or not, she’s a tough and capable competitor and was a superior contender in yesterday’s reward challenge -- unlike _someone_  I know.”

With a wince, Jasmine stood up, placing one hand each on Sky’s and Dave’s shoulders. “Easy, now. Let’s not start a fight. Sky, try not to put down Dave when it was clear that he tried his best yesterday.” Sky’s eyes flicked to the ground and she pouted in shame. Jasmine continued. “And Dave, you’re entitled to your opinion, but don’t resort to personal attacks, especially against members of our own team. We need to be able to set aside our differences and work together. Now, how about we change the subject? Maybe we could have a strategic talk to help pull us together before our first elimination challenge.”

The others nodded or murmured their accord with Jasmine’s suggestion -- some more eagerly, like Cameron and Shawn, and others more reluctantly, like Lightning and Sugar. However, Dave was still too emotional to get the hint; his expression shifted from hurt to baffled to frustrated in less than a second. “Seriously? I’m alone in this? What the-- I mean, guys! Jo scared Shawn half to death and probably did the same to poor Brick out there.”

At that, Sky’s apologetic expression darkened. She scowled and opened her mouth, prepared to argue, but was prevented from doing so when Dawn spoke up for the first time. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Several of the Magpies jolted at the sudden sound of her voice, as if they had forgotten that she was there. Dawn wasn’t put off by their reactions; from the other end of the table, she simply turned her gaze towards Dave and offered him a smile.

“To start, the canary yellow zig-zags across Shawn’s aura state clear as day that he’s naturally paranoid. He’s more easily set off by beings with a presence as striking as Jo’s, even when no true danger is present.”

“Hey!” Shawn protested, but Dawn held up her index finger and continued.

“And I wouldn’t worry about Brick.” Her smile took on a wry but mysterious quality. “It’s not my place to discuss Jo’s feelings, but I’ve observed a bluebell filigree pattern in the regions where her aura overlaps with his. Trust me; apart from a brief spike in gastrointestinal distress in the near future, he’ll be fine.”

As Dawn spoke, Cameron took out his spiral notepad from the pocket of his hoodie and jotted something down. “Bluebell, huh?” he murmured, more to himself than anyone.

Dawn looked to him and grinned. “Yep! It’s quite a promising color.”

Dave, who had been listening slack-jawed up to this point, finally threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Auras? _Auras?_ God! Can you believe this mumbo-jumbo?” He seemed unaware that the glares around the table were growing progressively more intense with each rude word to escape his lips. “Look, all I’m saying is that Jo is a cold, ruthless, athletic tyrant and needs to be voted out ASAP. Is that so difficult to agree with? I’m just thinking about what will benefit the team -- and ourselves -- in the long term. Maybe you all should do the same.”

{*}

It was at that moment when Brick finally approached the mess hall.

Up to this point, he had been taking time to exercise some more before eating; a quick fifty pushups was always enough to set his head straight after a long morning jog. Truthfully, Brick felt that doing so was a necessity after he upset Jo despite his best efforts to avoid it. It was one thing to unintentionally push her buttons; she was quick-tempered, though she would also usually calm down or come around after an initial snap. But right now, with Jo having slunk away in a huff, he couldn’t help but feel like he should have tried harder to convey his message quickly. Like he should have pushed his limits the way she would always push hers.

In hindsight, Brick’s distraction gave him a pang of shame, even though he couldn’t entirely blame himself for it. Bantering with Jo made him feel like the world and all its obligations had disappeared. It was as if what mattered most was giving his best effort, watching Jo give hers, and then pushing himself harder than he could have ever thought possible. In the end, they would each get to see just what they were capable of when they shared their competitive drive. It was really something. And this was just one of the many reasons Brick liked her company, even if he could never quite find the right time or place to express it.

However, right before Brick had the opportunity to enter the cafeteria, a more immediate problem surfaced. As he made his way up the steps towards the swinging doors, he inadvertently overheard the last few sentences Dave spoke. His mother had raised him to respect people’s privacy and opinions, and on a surface level Brick felt bad, but 1) Dave was sitting close to the door, 2) he wasn’t exactly whispering, and 3) Brick was glad he listened because that line of thinking needed to be addressed.

Dave had gotten Jo all wrong, and it was up to Brick to set the record straight.

“Morning.”

The Modern Magpies looked over to Brick when he spoke. Most offered him welcoming grins or polite hellos, and at first, Dave was no exception. “Oh, hey! You doing okay, man?” After asking this, Dave’s face softened into a gentle frown that Brick didn’t miss. It was an expression he hadn’t expected, but then again, he had just arrived with little context.

Right… little context. That thought was enough to moderate Brick’s response. _Maybe something provoked him; Dave does seem to be the reactive type. I should approach this carefully and try to be understanding._

“Well enough. Actually, would you mind walking with me, Dave? I would like a word with you.”

Dave nodded and stood up, bringing his tray with him. The smaller teen offered Brick a look that bordered on concern and confusion, lowering his voice as they walked towards the food counter.

“You look kind of upset,” Dave whispered. “Did Jo pull something nasty out there? Because if so, I’m totally on your side to vote her out.”

Brick felt a conflicted twinge in his chest. Though he still didn’t appreciate Dave speaking of Jo this way, he could see now that at least part of Dave’s reasoning came from a place of worry for one of his teammates. Brick relaxed a bit more at this development, enough to broach the subject in a gentle fashion.

“I appreciate your concern, soldier, but I have no intention of voting Jo off.” He frowned. “And Jo didn’t do anything terrible. I don’t know what Shawn told you guys, but it _was_ sort of my fault she got upset with me. Personally, I don’t blame her for it.”

Brick winced a little as he spoke, once again feeling a sad pang for failing her. He hated knowing he had let anyone on his team down, but something about Jo being -- well, Jo -- made it worse somehow. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what.

Luckily for Brick, he wasn’t allowed to linger on this train of thought; Dave’s exasperated huff cut right through it. “Oh, come on! I was convinced you’d be on board. She’s _way_ too eager to tease you and call you names and boss you around. It’s actually sort of weird. Anyway, top that off with our team already being physically stacked and her urge to take control, and I say ‘no thank you’ to Jo the Jerk-ette.”

Brick’s expression soured. “I disagree; voting off Jo would be a severe detriment to our team.” By this point, the two of them arrived at the counter, and Brick began plucking small pastries with questionable green filling from a serving platter and placing them on his tray. “I may not always agree with her methods, but she’s proven herself a capable leader. Even if she doesn’t take charge, she’s resourceful, a quick thinker, and knows how to push herself and others to excel. Perhaps she could stand to be less gruff with us, but her positives outweigh her negatives. And hey, maybe some of her coarseness comes from a kinder place than she’d care to admit. I think Jo being rough is just how she is.”

He felt accomplished. Like he made a compelling argument.

Regrettably, it wasn’t meant to last.

“Right. Sure. Okay, yeah,” Dave muttered, his brow flat. “It’s cool of you to look for the best in other players, but I seriously don’t think Jo would give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Brick stiffened.

“…I’m just saying, man.”

Brick went quiet and looked at his boots. There was a pit in his stomach that was impossible to ignore. Suddenly he didn’t feel hungry anymore.

After a second or two of silence, Dave’s expression softened. He reached a hand towards Brick’s upper back, presumably to pat it while offering reassurances. This never came to pass; at that moment, the swinging doors to the mess hall opened with a cacophonous duet of slams -- a demand for instant attention.

Brick’s eyes flicked towards the sound. Jo had arrived, and he noticed three things right away. First off, she had a dark water spot on her hoodie; it would seem she had washed the gunk off effectively, albeit at the cost of a dry top. Second, she had an irked but searching expression, like a jaguar surveying her domain and coming to the annoying realization that prey was nowhere to be found.

And third, that Jo’s gaze met Brick’s in an instant, and he would not be able to back down.

From his side, Dave shuddered. “Just think about it.” With that, he scurried back towards the Magpie’s table, leaving Brick alone at the counter and across from Jo like a sheriff facing down a desperado.

She began her approach. The background noises of the Magpies and Cuckoos talking amongst themselves seemed to fade more with every step Jo took; once again, the world began to blur, and for better or for worse, it was just him and her. Soon enough, she stood across from him only a foot or two away, and Brick could practically feel the tension crackling between them. He watched as she brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, poised and prompt and precise, before she sent him an aloof glare and crossed her arms.

“Brick.”

He shivered. There were two possible reasons for it: Jo’s cool tone, or Jo saying his name. Or three, maybe, if you counted both? Who was he to say? Brick couldn’t place which it was, but then again, it probably didn’t matter since the effect was the same. He dashed the thought by clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck, trying his best to stay focused despite his disorganized array of emotions. “Ma’am?”

She opened her mouth to speak before closing it again with a scowl. The bridge of her nose crinkled in a way Brick might have called cute if not for the fact that she was Jo, and to say that Jo’s features could be considered sweet in front of her was not recommended for those who wished to keep their limbs intact. Brick watched her face fall into an annoyed pout -- briefly, for just an instant -- before she huffed and placed a hand on his chest.

“Sorry,” she grunted.

Brick’s eyes darted between Jo’s face and hand. This wouldn’t be the first time it happened, but as strange as it seemed, the heat of her palm against his shirt traveled up and warmed his face. It must have also taken a detour to encourage his heart to beat at a quicker tempo because, sure enough, it was doing that as well.

Jo averted her gaze, opting to glower at some unseeable spot on the cafeteria floor. “You know,” she added, tugging her hand back. “For shoving you.”

Brick relaxed at her apology. Although the echo of Dave’s words prevented the tension from disappearing altogether, Brick felt substantially better just from knowing that Jo had considered his feelings. He offered her a reassuring grin. “Apology accepted. Though, to be fair, I didn’t succeed in my mission to deliver you the bad news in a timely way. You needn’t blame yourself for my failure.”

Jo shot him a grumpy glare in return. Was it his imagination, or was there a dusting of light pink on her cheeks? Probably the former; Jo didn’t strike him as the blush-when-embarrassed type. “Ugh, come on. You weren’t under any obligation, you know, and you went out of your way to help or whatever. Don’t look too much into this.”

Brick let her words sink in. He recognized that saying she’s sorry like this was not the easiest thing for Jo to do, and it made her apology -- despite its coarseness -- feel all the more genuine. He could tell since the moment he met Jo that she was a proud person, so mustering the will to do this must have taken substantial courage. It was a testimony to that strength of her character -- this daring to face obstacles head-on, both of internal and external origin -- that he found so grand and inspiring.

Furthermore, it would appear Jo just disproved Dave’s assertion that she wouldn’t give Brick the benefit of the doubt.

Brick’s heart rate picked up at the realization. He didn’t even try to suppress his relief and happiness as he patted Jo’s shoulder and gave her a broad smile. “Hey, don’t worry about it.”

At that, Jo’s whole body stiffened and her eyes went wide. “Worry? Me?” She pulled herself back and away from his touch, scoffing with a dismissive flick of her hand. “As if! You’re the one who gets worked up over the dumbest crap.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Brick hummed. He leaned against the wall with his tray, his posture lax.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Drippy Drawers.” Jo’s tone took on its usual teasing quality, but now her face was relaxed and there was a shine to her eyes that suggested relief for her, too. Brick felt his heart warm at the notion. He was glad that things were better for his teammate, and that the tension had waned for her at last.

But, once again, it would seem that this kind of feeling wasn’t meant to last for long. Jo shot Brick’s tray a look after another moment. “…But you definitely won’t sleep if you try to stomach all that. Hell, eating just _one_ will get you. What are you trying to do? Beat Owen at his own game?”

“Huh?” Brick turned his full attention to his tray for the first time. To his surprise, it was stacked up high with a lopsided pile of Chef’s foul-smelling pastries. When he was making his way to the counter earlier, he had intended to take only one or two before moving on to something else. He must have kept absentmindedly adding more while he was arguing with Dave. There had to be at least twenty!

If anyone else had pointed this out to him, Brick would have probably been abashed. But this was Jo, and he instantly detected an opportunity to impress her. As always, taking it was irresistible.

“Oh, this?” He straightened up, grinning confidently, balancing the tray on one hand while flexing his other arm. “I’m just stocking up! I have guts of steel in more ways than one, you know.”

Jo’s eyebrows raised and she shot him a smirk, putting her hands on her hips. “You don’t say? Well, _I_ won six pie-eating contests when I was ten and never got nauseous.”

“Not bad! I won seven when I was nine -- and same,” Brick countered with a wink.

“Did I say six? I meant sixteen.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Is that so? Well, maybe I meant seventeen!” His narrowed back.

“ _Really?_ ”

“Really!”

“As if you could eat that much, G. I. Joke.”

“You have no proof that I _can’t_.”

The two leaned forward, their foreheads practically butting together. Brick could feel the tension rising once again, bolstered by the undeniable sparks between them -- the sparks of _imminent competition_.

“Pastry-eating contest,” Jo spat. “You. Me. Here. Now.”

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you already ate.” As soon as he said that, Brick paused and re-evaluated his statement with a guilty frown. “Actually, wait, maybe we should do this when we’re both hungry. Starting this now gives me an unfair advantage.”

Jo’s eyes narrowed. Without breaking eye contact, she grabbed a tray, slammed her free arm behind the serving platter with the pastries, and slid the entire rest of the substantial pile onto it. It was a wordless assertion of dominance and, goodness, did Brick feel the weirdest, excited shiver at the sight.

“Bold of you to assume my having a handicap means you have the advantage, Brickhead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Writing this one was a doozy. Once again, I hope everyone's characterized okay. Feel free to throw feedback my way if you're feeling it -- I'd love to hear what you think!
> 
> The next chapter will see the results of this impromptu competition, as well as the transition to Chris laying down the rules for a more official Total Drama contest.


	3. A Sick Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brick doesn’t feel well. Some of his teammates work together in an attempt to buy him time and help him out. If they fail, the upcoming immunity challenge could get even messier.

“Hoo-ee! This is more intense than my grandmas fighting over creamed corn on Thanksgiving!” Sugar pumped her fist in excitement. “Keep it up! Take ‘em down!”

“Shouldn’t we stop them?” Leshawna asked, quirking a brow from the Cuckoo’s table.

“Of course not,” Courtney huffed. “Let the enemy get food poisoning on their own time.”

Chef rolled his eyes from behind the serving counter. “I’ll never understand you kids. The eating challenge is ages away.”

“Apparently not for the Magpies,” Sky sighed.

“That’s eighteen for Brick-- wait, nineteen for Jo!” Cameron stammered as he tallied their scores on his notepad. His glasses tilted with each rigorous flick of his wrist as he struggled to keep pace. “Incredible!”

Even with the others commentating left and right, Brick wouldn’t be distracted. He refused to lose focus as he stuffed pastry after pastry in his mouth. They somehow tasted worse than they smelled and his stomach turned with every swallow but, by god, he was determined to prove himself to Jo this time. He could do this! He would finally show her just how large and in charge he could be!

…And with _that_ delightful slip of the inner tongue, he nearly inhaled his bite. He coughed and got back to eating without wasting much time, but that didn’t stop him from blushing a little. _Good thing no one here is a mind reader._

Dawn tittered from across the way, but Brick paid no mind towards that or any other sound as he shoved his twenty-second pastry into his mouth. In this -- the end game -- he had to try harder. He whined, forcing the food down with a loud gulp.

Jo grunted, short on breath, nearly finished with her twenty-third pastry. “You-- mngh-- done already?” she jeered. In spite of her spirited jibe, Brick didn’t miss the faint green hue spread across her face and her reflexive wince as she took her next bite.

“Are you?” Brick tried to smirk playfully back, but a noisy gurgle and agonizing twist in his gut made him double over with a moan. He eyed the final pastry in his shaking hand. Just looking at its flaky exterior and smelling its foul odor made him gag; before he could help it, it slipped from his fingers, bounced off his tray, and landed on the floor. Brick’s forehead planted against the table and he grimaced, gulping to avoid puking right then and there.

“Mngh… because yeah,” Brick conceded. “I’m done.”

“In that case, this makes twenty-two points for Brick and twenty-three for Jo,” Cameron reported. “Jo is our winner!”

“Aww, yeah!” Brick peeked out of the corner of his eye to see Jo throwing her fists in the air, cackling at her victory. Her subtle wince of pain was instantly replaced with a smug grin as she pointed at her empty plate with both hands. “Take that, you shirt-staining bastards!”

Something about Jo taunting her crumbs pushed past the turning in his gut and put a smile on Brick’s face. Okay, so this was another cute moment that he shouldn’t dare call out unless he wants his butt kicked, but he at least had to admit to himself that he found her enthusiasm charming. It was contagious, if a bit amusing under these circumstances. “Ma’am, they were just pastries,” he chuckled.

At that, Jo stopped laughing and glared at him. “I know a bastard when I see a bastard, and those pastries were complete and utter _bastards_.”

Sugar guffawed. “Udder bastards! Well, this just sashayed from a pageant to a rodeo, didn’t it?”

“Pageant?” Jo’s eyes widened. “Hold up--!”

Before she could finish, the P.A. turned on with an electric squeal. “Attention, campers!” came Chris’ voice. “Today’s challenge will start at the base of Mount McLean. Be there in ten. Things are bound to get pretty _explosive_ if you don’t show up on time!” He chuckled darkly before the P.A. turned off. At once, Jasmine stood.

“You heard the man! Let’s hop to it.”

This was easier said than done. The contents in Brick’s stomach scraped uncomfortably against his insides as he tried to stand. He managed it after a moment with a grunt of effort, only to see that Jo was already sprinting after Jasmine along with the rest of their team. Jo might have been clutching her gut, but she nonetheless kept pace.

“Wait up!” she shouted. “Who died and made _you_ captain?”

 _How does she make that look so easy?_ Brick watched after her with some awe before stumbling and following his teammates. Honestly, at times he could have sworn Jo was superhuman; it seemed like whenever she put wholehearted effort into something, she could pull it off with aplomb. Furthermore, he could always tell when Jo gave her all because she’d get this resolute shine to her eyes, a look which told the world to stop and watch because she was about to do the impossible.

It made him all the more determined to try to keep up with her.

Brick balled his hands into fists and assumed a full sprint through the pain. He would pick up the pace or fall trying.

{*}

Ten minutes later, Chris swaggered in front of the campers with his trademark grin. “Glad to see you all could make it,” he said, his hands behind his back. He paused and scanned the teams. “…Mostly. Looks like the Magpies are one birdie short.”

“What?” Jasmine looked over her team and did a quick headcount. It only took her a moment to figure out who was missing. “Has anyone seen Brick?”

Jo let out a snicker, smirking in spite of her sickness. “Guess I beat him again.”

“Nega-- mngh-- tory….”

With that, Brick stumbled into the ranks of his teammates. To say he looked haggard would have been an understatement; though his breathlessness after sprinting was nothing new, his face was a putrid shade of green and his eyes were visibly glazed. Sky gasped when she saw him. “Oh my gosh! Brick, are you okay?”

As if on queue, Brick’s stomach let out an angry growl. Cameron, Shawn, and Dave all backed away at the sound.

Lightning grimaced. “Sha-yikes! That don’t sound good.”

Brick let out a pained whine as he hugged his gut. “That’s because it’s not.”

“Oh, this is great!” Chris laughed. “Hey, cadet -- you know when they say ‘no guts, no glory,’ they don’t mean actual guts, right?”

Jo’s expression soured. There was a visible restlessness for those who looked -- her brow was furrowed and her fingers drummed against her crossed arms -- but, naturally, most of the attention was on Brick’s less-than-ideal state. Jo moved like she was about to make her way over there, but paused when her gaze traveled to Dawn.

The pale teen had beaten her to Brick’s side.

Dawn placed a delicate hand on his shoulder and spoke to him in her soothing voice. “Brick, I can sense you will not be at peace if you let your fear or pride keep it in. Let it out; it will be good for you in the long run.”

He made a face and Dawn backed away politely. “I don’t need--.” Brick’s protest was cut off by himself when he clapped a hand to his own mouth, stifling an involuntary gag.

“Well, this isn’t good.” Sky frowned. She nudged Lightning’s arm with her elbow and gave him a nervous, pleading look. “Maybe we should help him out.”

Despite his record for being unwilling to listen, Lightning nodded at the suggestion right away. His eyes glinted tenaciously and he gave Sky an approving grin. “Took the words right out of my mouth. Sha-bam!”

Chris glared and pointed at Lightning before he could take off. “Hold your horses! More nausea means more drama means higher ratings.” He rolled his eyes. “Seriously, people. Do the math.”

The members from the opposing team snickered at this development and whispered amongst themselves. It was clear to pretty much everyone that they were planning to use this weakness to their advantage….

And that realization made Jasmine’s eyes light up with an idea. She approached Chris, looking down at him and exaggerating her concern. “But Chris, that will mean giving the Cuckoos an advantage. I would hardly call this fair. Is there any chance the challenge could be postponed for maybe… a few minutes?”

Behind her back, she motioned for Lightning to continue. His face lit up.

“Postponed?” Chris repeated the word slowly, as if it was taking time to register. Then he broke down laughing, clutching his sides. “You want me to-- oh! Oh, that’s rich! Postponing a challenge? On this show?”

Meanwhile, Lightning began his sprint. Dave held up his hands, unable to hide his sudden spark of jealous panic. “Woah, wait! Sky, I can help Brick instead. I’m great at comforting--.”

“Stand aside!” Lightning warned, but Dave failed to listen. The jock bowled him over, cutting off Dave’s would-be speech. Lightning didn’t stop, but he called back to the crumpled form of his teammate. “Tried to warn you!”

With that, Sky shot to Lightning’s side, leaping over Dave’s tackled body with a cool look. By the time she caught up, Lightning was already rubbing Brick’s upper back, guiding him towards some bushes. “Come on, dude,” Lightning murmured. “Let’s get you squared up.”

“Yeah.” After a moment, Sky’s expression softened into a gentle smile. “Let’s take Dawn’s advice, okay?”

This time, Brick didn’t have the energy to argue.

While this happened in the background, Jasmine made a show of slumping and groaning at the rejected suggestion to keep Chris laughing at her perceived misery. Shawn approached her, and when Jasmine noticed him out of the corner of her eye, she winked. He paused for a second, taking it in, before he winked back and grinned in pretend reassurance. “There, there, Jasmine.” He reached up and patted her shoulder. “It was worth a try.”

Brick threw up a moment later. Whatever encouraging words Lightning and Sky were saying to him couldn’t be made out by the rest of the team; they were overwhelmed by Chris’ subsequent protest. “What? Oh, for Pete’s sake! Brick should have tried holding it in during the challenge. Now his segment will only be half as funny.”

Jasmine and Shawn exchanged a clandestine smirk while Brick wobbled his way back to the group with Sky and Lightning. He appeared tired, but the color was back in his eyes and his face -- though flushed -- looked far better than before.

Jo put on a smirk once Brick took his place by her side. “Tough break, Major Mushguts.”

Brick just pouted in reply.

“And _because_ that just ruined my mood,” Chris huffed, “the positions of each player in the relay race will now be decided randomly. No more strategizing for you.”

Annoyed grumbling over this decision sounded from both teams. Dave, who was picking himself off the ground and dusting off his vest with a moody scowl, complained for a different reason. “Ugh, really? A relay race?”

Chris picked up on Dave’s protest and grinned deviously in response. “That’s right. Today’s challenge is a dangerous, precarious, and explosive relay race up Mount McLean! There are ten perilous sections for your team to get past, including a jaunt up a mud-covered slope, an upstream swim through a convenient lake filled with convenient electric eels--.”

“That doesn’t sound physically possible,” Harold said, holding up his index finger from the other team.

Chris sent him a withering glare. “I wasn’t finished.”

Harold gulped. “Sorry… gosh.”

“Nope. Too late for that. I was going to say I packed a few… _surprises_ here and there--” he paused for a sadistic chuckle “--but now I think I’m going to keep the entire rest of the race a surprise. Then maybe next time you’ll think twice about interrupting me.”

Pretty much everyone groaned or glowered at Harold. The gangly teenager looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Chris, who had cupped a hand to his ear to take in the collective misery, let out a delighted sigh. “Just what I wanted to hear. Anyway, I think we all know how things work for a relay race by now. Each team will be passing a baton from one member to the next. Now, because the lawyers were so T.O.’d about me using animals during _Revenge of the Island_ and _Pahkitew Island_ , we were forced to keep things simple and use torches… that are actively on fire!” He paused for dramatic effect. “And believe me, you’re going to want to keep them lit. If the flame goes out at any point, you have to stop and light up your torch again or risk disqualification for your team.”

Even more discontent rang from both sides. After hearing the news, Sierra was the only competitor with a smile on her face. “Oh, Chris! Keeping things spicy as always, I see.”

“I do my best,” he hummed.

“Umm,” came Owen’s voice. His brow was furrowed in concern as he waved his hand to grab the host’s attention. “Hey, Chris? How are we supposed to light our torches if they go out?”

Chris shrugged. “Use your imagination; anything goes as long as it’s legal. Anyway, the first team who gets their final member across the finish line and lights the up bonfire at the top of the mountain wins immunity! The losers will have to send someone home in the first dramatic campfire ceremony of the season. Now, enough talk! Here are your starting positions….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned in my Tumblr tags that this chapter is the calm before a storm. I have a buffer -- the next chapter is already written and is in the editing phase -- and all I have to say is that the jock levels are going to experience a fun little spike. I hope you guys will enjoy it when the time comes!
> 
> As always, feedback is encouraged, appreciated, and loved!


	4. The Pick-Me-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which pain lands Jo in a perilous position -- both literally and figuratively. Brick gets an idea that could yield victory, but it comes with its own risks and a few… unanticipated distractions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the first challenge of the story! Will our heroes manage to come out on top?

Fat chance the Cuckoos could beat them now! Harold was pitifully attempting to catch up a full obstacle behind Jo’s, and with her randomized as the final racer for the Magpies, it was as if their team was destined to finish off strong. Adrenaline roared in her ears, and the torch stayed tightly gripped and blazing in her hand despite the howling wind.

Her team was cheering for her back at the end of the previous obstacle, where Lightning had to pass her the torch by chucking it up a three-meter-tall cliff and across a five-meter gap. But she barely heard them. At this point, Jo was focused, single-minded, on her goal.

That’s right. Very focused, she told herself as she clutched her gut with her left hand, sprinting up the narrow and crumbling cliffside while jumping to avoid falling debris and shockwaves from explosions. Super focused, she told herself as she wound around the spiral path, feeling her stomach flop with every turn. Unbelievably focused, she told herself as she blinked back dizzy spots from her eyes.

Jo was carrying herself with nothing more than her determination to win, and would not be held back by intrusive sensations. That was her mantra.

Then she felt a stabbing pain in her gut.

Jo shouted in surprise and agony as she reeled against the side of the cliff. Her teammates called to her from farther down, but she barely heard them; the feeling of her face raking against the rough stone and her guts lurching in her torso overwhelmed her senses. The sudden change in momentum hit her like a truck, sending her tumbling and landing against her stomach on the ground. The torch escaped Jo’s grasp and thumped against the dirt path, rolling close to the edge of the trail -- close enough where it could fall off the side of the mountain at any moment.

She gasped. Jo made to stand up and sprint for it, but another sharp pang twinged at just the wrong time; in the split second it did, an explosive from above loosened some stones. They fell quickly, covering her from the calves down. Jo yelped in pain and protest as she was promptly pinned against the ground.

“Shit!”

Blinking back involuntary tears, she tried to yank herself free to no avail. But after a quick attempt, it became apparent that this would have to be Jo’s second priority. The torch was in a precarious position; if she didn’t grab it before it fell, it would mean game over for the Magpies -- and probably herself.

She grit her teeth and stretched as far as she could with the little leeway she had. The handle of the torch was so close, and yet just out of her reach. Jo dug her nails into the dirt and dragged herself forward, her left foot snagging against the rock. She pulled and pulled, feeling the muscles in her calf and ankle painfully tense -- like the strings of an instrument wound too tight.

Jo gagged as another twinge of illness struck her.

At the same time, the pulling in her leg grew worse.

But she growled and reached as best she could, blinking back tears and blocking out the excess stimuli. Her eyes hardened and she focused, once again, solely on her goal….

And not on a large rock perched perilously above her, swaying more unsteadily every second.

{*}

“Oh my gosh! Jo!”

“I think she’s trapped.”

“This can’t be good….”

“Gee, you think?”

“The rocks above Jo are unstable,” Cameron called, raising his voice as much as he could so his panicking team would listen. “I don’t have time to run any numbers, but judging by its lack of structural integrity and the apparent strength of the high-altitude winds, collapse is imminent. Jo could get seriously hurt!”

“We have to do something!” Jasmine and Shawn said simultaneously. In spite of the urgency of the situation, they paused to share a glance, offering each other a fond and blushy smile.

However, their moment was interrupted as soon as it began. “One side, losers!” Lightning stepped between Shawn and Jasmine and pushed them aside, puffing his chest. “Lightning can get to Jo in a flash!”

Before he could start climbing, Dawn placed a hand on his shoulder. “Wait a minute! I have a feeling that won’t be necessary.”

At Dawn’s assertion, two of her teammates spoke at once.

“What?” Sky sputtered. “We can’t afford to wait!”

“Oh, don’t tell me,” Dave groused. “Did the _universe_ send you that feeling?”

Dawn shook her head at them both. “No, no, no. Look!”

She pointed towards the ledge -- about fifteen meters above them -- where Jo had gotten stuck. The rest of the Magpies followed her gaze. Nearly there, climbing the scratchy steep slope at speeds that would impress and scare any mountaineer, was Brick. His movements were sharp and sure, and those below who were lucky enough to see his face bore witness to his no-nonsense look.

Almost immediately, Sky’s face lit up with joy. “Woohoo!” she whooped. “Brick, you can do it!”

“Go, man, go!” Lightning called.

“Pretend it’s Sloppy Joe Friday and you’s a raccoon climbing into my uncle’s dump truck!”

“Better yet, pretend the hoard’s on your tail!”

The team as a whole rejoiced and shouted words of encouragement -- Jasmine included -- but her cheers ended prematurely at the sound of Harold gasping his way to where they stood. The rest of the Classic Cuckoos were not far behind. They were also cheering on their teammate, but more importantly, the Cuckoo’s torch was there, ready to be tossed up to Alejandro. Jasmine winced, bit her lip, and flicked her worried gaze up to where Brick finally swung himself onto Jo’s ledge.

“Come on, Brick,” she murmured. “You’ve got this.”

{*}

Brick didn’t register the cheers, nor the echo of explosions, nor the clamor of the opposing team below.

He didn’t register the sweat on his skin, the cuts on his palms, nor the rapid beating of his heart.

All he registered was that the safety -- possibly even the life -- of Jo, his teammate, his rival and companion, was in jeopardy.

A growl, a grunt, a swivel of dislocatable hips. Reading the most stable parts of the crumbling slope -- where to place his hands and feet -- was subconscious, ingrained after having spent so much time on the climbing wall as a kid. Reach after reach Brick climbed, so quickly that thought was no language and all action: an instinct tied with fear.

He didn’t know how long it took to make it to Jo’s ledge, but he didn’t need to know. Just as Jo grabbed the handle of her torch, the large rock began its tumble.

Brick flung himself at it.

Was it good timing? Yes. Was it smart? Barely; the shoulder and side which hit the boulder and sent it tumbling the other way now throbbed with pain. There was no doubt this would leave a bruise that would ache for days to come. Was it worth it?

He got back on his feet and looked over to see Jo: still with her stomach on the ground, propped up by her elbows, giving him a speechless, stupefied stare. Most importantly, she was safe.

Hell yes, it was worth it.

“Are you all right?” Brick panted, his limbs shaking from excess adrenaline. He kneeled down and grappled with the debris on Jo’s legs, multitasking so she could continue her stretch of the challenge as soon as possible.

“Never been better, Brickhouse.” Without looking, Brick could tell that this was false bravado; Jo’s voice was queasy and hoarse. He glanced her way as he continued to rapidly remove rocks, and that brief look was enough to prove his suspicions. Jo’s eyes were damp and red around the edges, her right cheek was marred by a dark scrape, and her whole face was green. Even her smirk seemed off; Jo’s usual moxie barely pierced past its sickly and pained edge.

Brick’s gut clenched.  _Something isn’t right._

Jo made to sit up and help Brick free her, but by the time she managed to, he had already removed the heaviest stones. With that, Brick pulled back and offered her his hand. Maybe it was his nervous energy or concern for her, but for a second, he thought his heart beat louder than before. “Here. Let me help you.”

At that, Jo puffed and patted his forearm. “Thanks, but spare me the chivalry.”

Brick frowned, but nodded and drew back to give Jo space. He watched as she placed her hands against the ground -- keeping the torch firmly grasped in her fist -- and tried to push herself up. Less than two seconds in, Jo hissed in pain, crumpling and grabbing at her left calf.

“Jo!” At once, Brick placed a hand on Jo’s wrist and waist and pulled her into a standing position. “Jo, are you okay?”

Instead of answering, she snarled, her face bright red. “Mind your hands, McArthur!” She tugged herself backwards and out of Brick’s hold only to slam her back against the rough slope. Brick grimaced, frozen still as he watched her slump once more and rub the base of her left foot. After a tense second, her scowl darkened with recognition. “No. _No._  My ankle -- it’s fricking sprained.”

It was at this point that Chris flew up to them with the help of his patented McLean Jetpack, hovering well in spite of the wind. He chuckled and shot the teens his best hosting smirk. “Sounds like quite the problem. I mean, you’d better think of a way to get out of this fast if you want a shot at immunity. Looks like Alejandro’s catching up nice and quick.”

Brick’s heart was already speeding thanks to the climb and the news of Jo’s sprain, but peeking down the cliffside to see Alejandro gaining on them made it shift into overdrive. His eyes flicked to Jo and he tried to gauge her face. She was attempting to stand up again, only to grimace and suck in another pained breath. Then she directed her gaze to the ground. Her eyes, though hard, seemed lost and searching. Although Brick would normally question how this could be so -- she was Jo, of all people -- he could tell it was real. The light waned from her eyes.

“I can’t run like this.”

The disillusionment and frustration in her voice stopped Brick’s heart, and yet they sparked his hands to start shaking and his mind to start racing. She was a man down, hypothetically speaking, and he refused stay idle and doom not only the Magpies to failure, but Jo’s status as a competitor. The cadet code -- his moral code -- wouldn’t allow it: _never leave a man behind._

With the rest of his team well below them and unlikely to reach them in time, Brick knew that this was up to him. Almost at once, he was struck with inspiration….

…Oh, no. That had _bad news_ written all over it. Jo would kill him and he would probably deserve that. Right? Or would she understand and forgive Brick’s transgression with the knowledge that this could help them win the challenge and be guaranteed immunity? Both seemed likely and Brick was in no hurry to find out which it would be. But he didn’t have time to consider an alternative, and of the few ways Brick could execute his idea, this was the most effective, so….

What choice did he have?

“Sir!” Brick stood to attention, addressing Chris. “You stated that the first team to get their final member across the finish line and light the bonfire wins immunity, correct?”

“That’s right.”

Brick took a sharp breath through his nose before making eye-contact with Jo. His whole body was stiff. Immediately, he noted her tired and suspicious glare. He didn’t blame her for it, but he spoke with clarity, quickness, and confidence. The situation demanded it.

“Ma’am, I have an idea on how to get you across that finish line. But you’re going to have to--.”

Jo balled her hands into fists. “Then let’s do it, Dampypants!” she snapped, interrupting him. The fire in her eyes burned at full force, reignited by the prospect of victory. “Move out!”

Brick’s heart drummed in his ears; her shift in ferocity floored him. This, combined with the piece of him that wanted to be gentle with and respectful of others, gave him the briefest moment of pause; he just _knew_ this would make Jo uncomfortable, and that was no good. But he saluted, resolving to make it up to her and apologize later. Time was of the essence, and focus was required. “Ma’am, yes ma’am! Now commencing Operation: Piggyback.”

Jo’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

Before she could inquire any further, Brick swept her up and nudged her onto his back. Although Jo let out a startled yelp -- presumably at the rough, hasty treatment -- she situated herself and didn’t protest, to Brick’s relief. He supported her legs with his arms and… wow. _Wow_.

Jo was _toned_.

Well, it wasn’t like Brick didn’t know this already. Jo took good care of her body and he admired that. But to appreciate such dedication and its resulting aesthetics at a distance was one thing; to feel her lean muscles through her clothes was another matter. Compounding the issue was the sensation of her upper body pressed against his back; she was definitely hiding muscle under that baggy sweatshirt. And just to add frosting on top of the weird but attractive cake, he could also feel… her chest. Right there. Against the base of his neck.

Brick’s face went red. This was… well, he wasn’t sure what this was. He just knew that he liked it in a way he didn’t anticipate and this _really_ wasn’t the time to ask why.

 _I may have to make a date with the confessional --_ after _I get Jo across the finish line._

{*}

“¡Oye!” Alejandro shouted, rounding the corner in time to see Brick take off with Jo. “That can’t be allowed! How is this fair?”

“Ah-ah-ah! I make the rules around here, so I get to decide what’s fair and what’s not.” Chris smirked, still hovering in the air with his jetpack. “Did you hear me say _how_ the last team member had to cross the finish line? I don’t think so. Besides, this makes things way more interesting. We’re neck-and-neck! And now the whole world gets to watch Jo keep sacrificing her pride for the win, or chicken out and sacrifice the win for her pride!”

Under normal circumstances, Jo would have angrily disputed the assertion that she was sacrificing her pride. She would have probably told McLean to eat it, too, then commanded Brick to speed the hell up because Frat Latino was gaining on them. But none of this happened. The torch stayed resolutely gripped in Jo’s hand and her gaze stayed resolutely locked on the trail, but to say her mind was into it would have been a lie.

 _Shit_. Jo bit her lip, sweating and clinging tightly. _Brick’s fucking built._

Jo wasn’t the sort of person to linger over such observations for long. Obviously, she had known this since they met because she had working eyes -- not to mention the times in the past when she had made contact with Brick’s chest, back, and shoulders. But she vehemently refused to let her eyes or hands linger; the fact that they were sometimes inclined to was another thing she refused to let happen _or_ think about in any way. This successfully ensured that Jo could stay unbothered and continue going about her usual business without distraction: things like strategizing or making her teammates train.

But this? This was nothing _but_ physical contact with Brick’s stupid muscles. This would be like eons of the constant reminder that, yes, they were real, and yes, he was carrying her with them.

Jo was blushing and she hated it.

Her frustration peaked enough for her to huff the first thing she thought of. “You know I’m going to keep playing the game as usual, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I won’t form an alliance with you just because you’re helping me.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

“And don’t even think I’ll go easy on you, either.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.”

Jo bristled. “Good.” She pressed herself more firmly against Brick, feeling her grip on him get better but her irritating blush get worse. “As you were.”

 _This sucks._ The self-pitying thought crossed her mind before she could stop it; as soon as it did, she growled and shook her head. _Come on, Jo. Snap out of it and stop being preoccupied with meaningless crap! Brick may be the one running but we’re both screwed if I don’t keep my head in the game. Focus on something else._

For a few tense moments, this was easier said than done. As Jo tried to choose something less embarrassing to think about, her hyperawareness of Brick’s physique kept pulling her thoughts back to him. In short order, she refused to linger on the prickle she felt when Brick looked ill, nor on her kind-of pride when he recovered from puking so well; she refused to linger on how admittedly impressive it was for him to have shoved that rock out of the way to ensure she wasn’t crushed; and she certainly refused to linger on the urge she felt to launch her fist through the trunk of a tree when Dawn put her hand on Brick’s shoulder. It was like her brain was _trying_ to waste her time!

Fortunately -- or perhaps unfortunately -- something urgent to focus on presented itself to her first. With a lunge, Alejandro caught up and pulled next to Brick before ramming the cadet with his elbow. Brick grunted and turned a little, smacking his chest and face against the rough cliffside at an angle. Jo’s upset stomach turned at the impact, but Brick had spun in such a way that she didn’t get hurt -- even though he definitely did.

Jo scowled. _Oh, hell no._

Brick stumbled back onto the path, persevering but struggling to catch up as Alejandro pulled ahead. Jo’s eyes flashed. She leaned forward, holding out her torch and shouting at the top of her lungs the one thing she knew was guaranteed to grab the bastard’s attention: “Hey, _Al!”_

Sure enough, Alejandro faltered at the offensive nickname. He glowered over his shoulder -- just in time for the panting Brick to get close enough for Jo to introduce her right hook to Alejandro’s face. Alejandro yelped and stumbled, nearly toppling off the side of the mountain. Jo cackled as she and Brick pulled ahead, peering behind them and watching Alejandro cling to cliffside like an angry spider.

“Hasta la later!” she crowed.

Brick, whose breath was laboring harder with each step, shot Jo a glance over his shoulder. In spite of himself, he managed to puff out a warning. “The torch!”

Jo’s eyes flicked to it, only to see that the flame was dying against the high-altitude winds. Her breath hitched. She stole a quick glance behind, only to see that Alejandro had pulled himself back on the path. He was barreling towards them with a scathing glare and a bruise on his left eye. Worse still, with only his own weight to worry about, he was catching up -- and fast.

The finish line and the bonfire pit were so close….

Jo’s instincts kicked in.

“Next to the wall, soldier! Push your limits and don’t give in!”

Brick didn’t audibly acknowledge her orders, but he nodded and sped up, making long strides towards the finish line. Each bound bobbed Jo up and down and made her stomach writhe with warning, but she bared her teeth and narrowed her eyes. She leaned left and pressed the head of her torch against the wall. The friction between them bolstered its blaze once more.

Then the rock wall disappeared. The finish line was right there. Jo was ready to hurl….

…Her torch at the unlit bonfire pit, causing the whole thing to go up in flames the moment Brick set foot on the finish line.

“And the Modern Magpies win!” Chris shouted, raising his hands in the air. Alejandro cussed in Spanish and skidded to a halt as the remainder of the Magpies and Cuckoos cheered or moaned from below. Chris began his post-challenge spiel, detailing the safety or not of the contestants for tonight’s elimination ceremony. Without a doubt, the edited scene in the show would play _Total Drama’s_ signature winning music and be packed with jump-cuts to show the thrill of victory or the sting of defeat on the players’ faces.

But Jo’s face told a different story.

She felt Brick’s legs quaking underneath them as he peeked over his shoulder. His eyes looked like they’d been holding in tears of effort and his chest heaved with rough, heavy gasps. Almost instantly, Jo saw his exhausted but happy expression turn into one of worry. He let out a questioning rasp which vaguely resembled her name.

It was answered by a snarl of her stomach.

“Down,” Jo gagged. “Now!”

He obeyed, and Jo puked off the side of the mountain. She felt what might have been a pair of big, gentle hands pull her hair away from her mouth. Once Jo was done vomiting, one of those hands tentatively rubbed her upper back. With victory sealed and her sickness and pain sapping her energy and awareness, Jo’s conscious thoughts scattered. She didn’t consider where the touch came from or who it belonged to; just that it was familiar and nice, far nicer than the knot in her stomach and the strain in her left calf. By instinct, she arched against the hand, and was rewarded by feeling its warmth press against her more.

It was just the pick-me-up she needed before blacking out completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I do love me some cliffhangers!
> 
> Wow, I had so much fun writing this chapter. Especially... certain parts. (I'm sure you can guess which ones. *wink, wink*) I hope you guys enjoyed reading it, too!
> 
> (Also, digital cookies go to those who catch the "Voltron: Legendary Defender" reference!)


	5. Checking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brick is confused and lonely while Jo is in denial and less lonely, but not necessarily in a good way. Why won’t Dawn leave her alone?

Today, Brick’s only company on his jog was his thoughts.

He refrained from doing his morning run the day before; at the time, his body still ached from the last challenge. But since Brick woke up feeling better in spite of the dark bruise on his shoulder, he figured he’d try it today. After all, an 8k run was routine, and missing out on exercise was not something he was interested in.

Unfortunately, what Brick was _most_ interested in -- checking on Jo -- had so far been delayed.

Chef had driven him away with a glower when Brick tried to see her in the infirmary. Later, when Jo returned to the women’s dorm for the Modern Magpies, the other ladies had politely turned Brick away because she still needed rest. He understood; recovering from such a bad case of food poisoning would take time. Heck, it may take even longer than usual since it was brought on by Chef’s horrendous pastries and how many of them Jo ate. Brick was actually lucky to have thrown up before the ones he had eaten could sabotage his insides.

But this didn’t make him feel any less guilty for unintentionally helping put Jo in this position.

Add that to the list of things to apologize to her for, up there with the rough handling in the relay race and all its particulars.

Brick’s face warmed up. The tactile memory of Jo piggybacking against him had been difficult to ignore, especially with how often she’d cross his mind due to his worry. Just now, he tried to shake off the shiver he felt when the association hit his nerves. Brick grunted and sped up with forced tenacity in the vain hope that feeling the burn would make it stop.

_This isn’t right. You weren’t raised to think about people like that. Have some respect, soldier._

And yet, in spite of Brick’s moral self-judgement, intrusive thoughts kept surfacing in an attempt to rationalize yesterday’s… “unexpected wave of interest…” as its own form of respect. After all, it was no secret that Brick respected -- among a myriad of other traits -- Jo’s strength and level of fitness. Both of these aspects are no better manifested than in her muscles. Was it so wrong to like and appreciate the physical feeling of them? He already liked and appreciated the rest of Jo, so why did this feel so different?

The fact that his brain kept asking these questions only confused and upset Brick more. He had no idea where to begin answering them, and even less of an idea why his mind was so eager to recall the bizarre niceness of having Jo so close. Brick shook his head in frustration. _Come on. Can’t I think about her for two seconds without making it weird?_

His wish was granted, but not in the way he would have liked.

Brick took a shaky breath through his nose and steadily began slowing down. As he surveyed the path with bleary eyes, he couldn’t help but feel the absence of Jo’s playful trash-talk, of the smirks she’d send him over her shoulder, of her cocky laughter as she’d pull ahead. As much as Brick knew that the both of them took their morning races seriously, he liked how fun they were. Jo probably wouldn’t admit it, but just looking at her as they raced together was enough for him to tell that she usually had a great time as well.

Before it even registered with Brick, he had come to a complete stop. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. All he could hear was the shudder of his breathing and the steady thumping of his heart past the sounds of the forest. The morning air was unseasonably cool for summer; in that moment, Brick could have sworn it got colder.

_It’s kind of lonely out here, isn’t it?_

He sighed and slipped his hands in his pockets. Brick wasn’t tired -- he wasn’t even winded -- but he slumped over and started back towards the campsite. Whatever motivation he had to finish his jog had flickered out, overwhelmed by restless uncertainty. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea with his mind sending him such strange signals, but Brick had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to sort things out until he got to see her.

_I wonder if Jo’s awake yet._

{*}

“Things can’t get any worse.”

What a stupid phrase. In movies, comics, and just about all media, it meant without a shadow of a doubt that something bigger and badder was around the corner. Even with stories exaggerating this trope to a comic extent, Jo could see where it came from. Things could _always_ get worse; such is the nature of chance, though the odds of crap hitting the fan can be reduced by having good instincts, awareness, and a sense of control. At any rate, Jo believed a self-pitying attitude demonstrated a lack of all three.

And yet this accursed phrase slipped out against Jo’s better judgment, grumbled against the pillow she clutched moodily to her face. Usually she’d try to smack such bleak thinking out of her brain, but her levels of frustration, annoyance, and bitterness were at a breaking point. A more rational approach would be impossible without venting a bit -- even with a phrase she hated.

Having a sprained ankle sucked. It just did. Being unable to get a decent workout? Being more or less bound to your bed? Being forced to wait on your team to finish eating before they bring you breakfast? Awful -- and that’s without mentioning the pain. Then there was yesterday, which also sucked because it was spent dehydrated and dizzy in the infirmary. The only thing Jo gained from the experience was the knowledge that Chef was about as good a nurse as he was a cook. A five-star review? More like a negative fifty for that treatment.

With these conditions overlapping, it was no wonder Jo had that oh-so-brief moment of weakness to dare say that things can’t get any worse. But, just like any hapless fool who dared say so unironically, it came: a cruel reminder that things not only could, but _would_ get worse.

“Perhaps some breakfast will make it better?”

Jo groaned from beneath her pillow. She knew exactly who owned that voice; its girly, airy sound was unmistakable. _Crap._

With a grunt, Jo shoved the pillow off of her face and shot Dawn a scowl. “Not hungry.”

Dawn, who had seemingly teleported to the middle of the room, was holding a cafeteria tray stacked modestly with some of the least disgusting food on the island. In spite of Jo having addressed her with a dire tone, Dawn smiled sweetly back. “Don’t let your desire for self-reliance deny you the chance to eat. You’ve been hungry all morning, and both of us know putting unneeded pressure on your ankle won’t help.”

Jo growled. “I don’t _want_ to be self-reliant. I _am_ self-reliant.” With that, she turned her head to glare at the window. It was next to her bottom bunk, though there was nothing of much interest to stare at past its blurry panes. Whatever. It was still better than looking at Dawn’s face; Dawn was, simply put, the last person Jo wanted to see. The reason why creeped at the back of her mind, but she didn’t acknowledge it. As far as Jo was concerned, it was just that kind of day. “Don’t you dare imply I’m not.”

“I’m sorry, Jo. I didn’t mean to offend.” This time, Jo managed to hear the sound of Dawn’s footsteps as she approached. Grinning pleasantly, Dawn tilted her head and offered Jo the tray. “Did you sleep well?”

Jo took the tray from Dawn; irksome though it was, Dawn had a point about Jo moving her ankle and being hungry all morning. But that didn’t stop Jo from rolling her eyes at the tentative question and brushing it off with a scoff. “Save the small talk for someone who cares. Try Brick. You got on with him _real_ nice the other day.”

To Jo’s surprise, a tiny smirk quirked at Dawn’s lips. “Oh? Whatever do you mean?”

Jo’s eyes narrowed. Dawn was definitely angling for something, but Jo had no idea what.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Pixy Stix.” Jo dug her spoon into the bowl of breakfast gruel on her tray and scraped against its ceramic base. “I saw you patting his back and reassuring him when he had food poisoning. You were being sweet on him, weren’t you?” Although Jo could have removed her spoon and taken a bite at that point, she kept scraping the bowl, harder and louder with every word. “I bet he’s into that, you know. I straight up bet if you approached him with a flower crown and asked if he wanted to hang out with you in some pretty forest clearing where it’d be ‘just you two,’ he’d--.”

Jo’s bowl broke from the excessive force. The sudden sound of ceramic snapping made her jolt upright and cuss. In spite of its vessel breaking, the gruel didn’t splatter, let alone lose its lumpy shape. Worse, Dawn was struggling not to laugh -- something Jo attributed to the unfortunate display.

“Wait a minute,” Dawn wheezed, her torso trembling with muffled chortles. “You-- you think _I’m_ Brick’s type?”

As she dusted the clay shards off of her tray and onto the floor, Jo bristled and growled. “Did I stutter, Twinkle Toes?”

“No, I… I suppose I’m just surprised. You know,” Dawn added, her brow quirking, “since during _Revenge of the Island_ , you eavesdropped on me telling him he had a need to be dominated.”

Before Jo could help it, her face heated up -- a feat which surely, absolutely, and without a doubt had nothing to do with the possibility of Brick being into that and everything to do with how _annoying and wrong_ Dawn was. “No, I didn’t!”

Dawn leaned down and examined the shards on the floor. “There’s no need to deny it just because you found it interesting,” she hummed as she pocketed one of the larger pieces. “Your timing to tease him afterwards with your whistle and an _a-ten-hut_ was more than a coincidence. I’m sorry, but your aura makes that perfectly clear.”

That did it. Anger bubbled in Jo’s gut and she stopped tossing around the chipped ceramic. With a scowl and a lunge of her arm, Jo grabbed Dawn by her shirt collar and yanked her up so they were nose-to-nose. “Listen up, Tinkerbell: I did _not_ find it interesting, I did _not_ eavesdrop, and I’m _not_ denying anything. Same team or not, if you use your so-called ‘aura readings’ to spread rumors about me, you’ll make a powerful enemy. Understand?”

Dawn quieted and gave Jo a hurt frown. “I wouldn’t do such a thing.” She placed her hands over Jo’s before lifting them off of her collar. Then she pulled back and fidgeted, concern evident on her face. “I just think you should be honest with yourself. By any chance, do you remember what I told Brick the other day when he felt unwell?”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”

“I told him he won’t be at peace if he lets his fear or pride keep it in, and that he should let it out because it will be good in the long run.”

“And then he puked. Your point?”

Dawn sighed. “I just think you needed to hear that. You might find it helpful.”

“Thanks, but already I spent a day and a half barfing.” Jo crossed her arms and glared out the window once more. “Too little, too late.”

There was a pause. During the silence, Jo let her eyes wander over the glass. The sun was out, but the condensation on the window panes muted the shapes and colors of the outdoors. After a tense moment, Jo let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her absent mind drifted to Brick, spurned in part by this conversation. _I wonder if he’s still on his 8k?_

The mental image of Brick taking a merry morning run without her was… weird. It shouldn’t have been -- it was clearly a daily thing, whether he was competing on _Total Drama_ or not -- but then again, the weird part came in how Jo’s body reacted to it. It made her slump more against her bed, and her crossed arms eased into something that might have been more aptly compared to a self-hug.

Jo didn’t get the chance to consider why, react, and box the foreign feelings accordingly. Before she could, the silence was broken with another sigh from Dawn.

“Well,” the pale teen murmured, “I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.”

In spite of it all, hearing the apology slightly reduced Jo’s irritation. She grunted and shrugged.

“I know I have a tendency to say a bit too much at times,” Dawn continued, her voice small. “But I didn’t mean any harm. Really, the main reason I came over was to see if you were okay. We’ve all been worried.”

“Yeah, right.” Jo chuckled dryly. As she spoke, she sat up and began picking at her food again with a fork. “I bet Dave would object to being lumped in with the others. That squeamish twerp has been scared of me since day one -- not that that’s a bad thing. If he thinks I’d vote for him at elimination, he might try harder to focus on upping his game instead of his boner for Sky.”

Dawn tittered at the wording. “I hope so! His preoccupation with her and the effect it’s had on his aura is troubling me. But I will say, if Dave hasn’t been worried about you, then the others have more than made up for it: Jasmine, Sky, Shawn, Brick….”

Jo stilled. Her pulse quickened -- from surprise, of course. “Brick, huh?” she mumbled.

She didn’t mean for Dawn to hear her, but Dawn clearly did; her pale eyes glittered and she clasped her hands together. “Yes. He tried visiting you a few times between the end of the last challenge and now, but he was disappointed each time when he wasn’t allowed to see you. His concern was moving.”

As Jo listened intently to Dawn’s words, she absently poked at the food on her plate. With her attention focused elsewhere, Jo inadvertently let her fork slip out of her fingers and clatter against the tray. Her instant response was a hiss of annoyance and vague embarrassment as she grabbed her fork again.

“What?” Jo asked, rolling her eyes as she tried to save face. “Pff. Yeah, right.”

_Jeez, what was that? Hand-eye coordination, you’re not allowed to ditch me for no reason._

Dawn’s broad smile turned into a softer, gentler one. Jo watched as the smaller teen pulled back and leaned against the wall. “Don’t sound so skeptical. He cares about you quite a bit.”

At that, Jo huffed and shook her head, her eyes trailing back to her tray as she stabbed a gray sausage patty with her fork. Her gut twinged with a clash of emotions. Hearing that, for whatever reason, sparked a warm feeling in her stomach that could have -- frighteningly -- resulted in a smile; and yet, before the feeling could get that far, Jo’s natural skepticism put it out.

“So what? He cares about everyone.” Jo took a lazy bite. “It’s kind of weird.”

“Maybe, but you might not still be in the game if it weren’t for that. Well, and his quick thinking and strength; he didn’t hesitate a second before climbing up to your aid. Both his aura and his face said the same thing: that nothing would stop him until you were safe. Ah… that is,” Dawn added, her hands fidgeting, “I hope you don’t mind that I’m telling you this. Sorry, I think I’m talking too much again. It just stuck with me and I figured you’d like to know.”

As Dawn spoke, Jo’s pulse quickened and heat rushed back to her cheeks. “Whatever,” she grumbled, pushing her tray of food away and pulling her pillow back over her face. All morning long, she’d been trying _not_ to think about the last challenge -- _especially_ not the part where Brick supported her. It wasn’t like she didn’t appreciate what he did since it was… well… admittedly pretty nice -- but damn her if she wasn’t allergic to the memory! That was the only reasonable explanation as to why her stomach twisted in fluttery knots when she recalled each and every stupid detail that went with it: how Brick threw himself at the falling rock, how he spoke with strength and confidence, how he carried her to victory without hesitation….

The way he looked at her, earlier with worry and later with determination… the way his muscles felt against her and the security of his hold… the way he smiled at her despite his exhaustion when everything was over….

Jo shook her head and grunted against her pillow. Yep, she was allergic. This memory had to have given her a fever response -- complete with nausea, flushing, and dizziness! What a rotten day.

Another moment passed before Jo heard the sound of Dawn’s feet shuffling against the wooden floor. “Well… on that note, I think I’m going to go meditate now.”

“Mngh.”

For a few seconds, Jo heard the sound of Dawn’s footsteps grow more distant. Then they paused. “Oh!”

Jo rolled her eyes. She figured Dawn was probably lingering in the doorway or something, but Jo couldn’t be bothered to lift up her pillow and look.

“Before I go, Jo, I think it’s fair to warn you--.”

“Make it quick,” Jo muttered. _The sooner I’m alone, the sooner I can block this nonsense out of my brain._

The dorm was quiet for a moment.

“Okay,” Dawn said. “Brick’s right outside our door.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Jo and Brick are gonna have a little talk in the next chapter. Will it be a trainwreck, or will it go better than expected? We'll find out soon enough!


	6. Misguessing and Addressing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brick tries to apologize to Jo and is met with a response he never would have expected -– but that’s nothing compared to the shock Jo gets.

Brick had just stepped up to the door of the ladies’ side of the Magpies’ cabin when he heard Jo shout from within.

“He’s _what?”_

Brick froze and blinked. For a brief moment, he wondered what was going on, but he didn’t have the luxury to process his thought or reconsider his visit; as soon as it crossed his mind, the door opened from the other side. It was Dawn, and she looked up to Brick with a soft grin.

“Hello,” she hummed. “I’m sorry we turned you away earlier. Come in; Jo’s awake now.”

“So I gathered,” he chuckled as Dawn pulled back to give him space. At the gesture, Brick paused and gave her an appreciative smile. “Thank you, teammate.”

Stepping inside, Brick quickly located Jo. She was resting on one of the bottom bunks with her left foot propped up by an extra pillow. He called it _extra_ because Jo was clutching a second one to her chest, her nails embedded in its musty surface. On her lap was a tray of food, which Brick took to be a good sign that her nausea had finally subsided. Looking to her face, though, is what really gave him a surge of relief. She no longer resembled a zombie in a way that would make Shawn lose his mind; the light was back in her eyes and there was color on her cheeks.

…Actually, there was too much color. _Is she--?_

“Woah, woah, back up!” Jo hissed, chucking the pillow she held at them. It moved so fast that Brick, despite his reflexes, couldn’t catch it and it hit him square in the face. “No eavesdroppers allowed, G. I. Joke!”

Now, Brick had never been in a pillow fight, but he was pretty sure that a pillow to the head shouldn’t feel like getting hit by the broad side of a frying pan. Then again, it was thrown by Jo, and she was strong enough to lob barrels single-handedly. He probably shouldn’t have been so stunned.

But, honestly, it was her accusation that surprised him more.

“W-what?” he stammered, catching the pillow as it flopped off his face. Brick shook his head, partly to dispel the stars swirling around it, and partly to try and grasp what Jo just accused him of. “Ma’am, I just got here. I didn’t hear anything -- soldier’s honor!”

He shifted the pillow under his left arm so his right hand could cross his heart. Jo scoffed from across the way. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah,” Dawn interjected. Her voice sounded cheery, but Brick could sense something off about it. He saw that her grin was somewhat slanted -- was she smirking? That was weird; Dawn didn’t strike him as the smirking type. “He’s right. Don’t worry, Jo. I only mentioned he was outside our door because I heard him coming up the steps just now.”

With that, Jo’s shout from earlier suddenly made more sense… except, in some ways, it still didn’t. Brick scratched his head. The best guess he could think of for that kind of reaction to “eavesdropping” was that Jo and Dawn had been forming secret alliance, but this seemed unlikely for a number of reasons. First, to his knowledge, Jo and Dawn had never interacted one-on-one before now; second, Jo had never been one for secret alliances; and third, Jo preferred to ally with people who would follow her orders with little question. Brick didn’t know Dawn very well, but he got the feeling that her perception of things would cause her to speak up against some of Jo’s plans -- and thus get on Jo’s nerves. Furthermore, Brick figured that, if he noticed it, Jo couldn’t have been blind to that possibility. Something about this just wasn’t adding up.

Still… it was the best explanation he had.

He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but fortunately for Brick, Jo didn’t press the issue. Her eyes were narrowed and her arms were crossed, but she just huffed and looked aside at Dawn’s assurance. “Whatever.”

“Anyway, I’ll leave you two alone.” Dawn looked up to Brick. Whatever traces of the smirk he thought he saw were now gone; her smile was soft and warm again. “I’m sorry if this seems abrupt,” she said, “but I was just telling Jo that I was heading out to meditate.”

Brick saluted. “Understood, miss.” With that, he grinned politely and used his free hand to hold the door open for her. “Until later, then!”

Dawn’s smile broadened. “Until later.” She nodded, closed her eyes, and stepped out of the dorm. “Have fun, you two.”

Brick paid little mind to the comment as he let the door slowly close behind her. He looked to Jo, who seemed to be glaring at the bottom of the bunk bed above her. Her lips were pursed and her posture was stiff. Brick winced as the implications of her body language sank in. Clearly, she was still ruffled from his unintended interruption.

This would be a third thing to apologize for, and considering its immediacy, there was no better place to start.

“Ma’am?” he murmured.

Jo grunted.

Brick straightened up. Any response was better than none; he was never quite sure how to approach people when they gave him the cold shoulder. He stepped forward and held out her pillow in a silent offering, close enough for her to reach it but far enough away to give her personal space. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“It’s fine.” Jo snatched her pillow; the suddenness of her movement made Brick flinch. “You heard her. She was leaving anyway.”

Brick gulped. Shuffling his feet, he scuffed his boots against the wooden floor. Brick tended to like being in Jo’s presence, but now he had the creeping feeling that he wasn’t welcome here. It was… disappointing, although that word was something of an understatement. After spending so much time worrying, Brick had kind of hoped she would have been more receptive to his company. Then again, it seemed he had also arrived at an inopportune time.

His heart clenched. _I should have just been patient._ Before he could help it, a sigh escaped him.

Brick barely noticed Jo’s frame easing slightly at the sound or her frown softening just a bit. As he started to speak, so did she.

“Well, I won’t--.”

“So, how was--?”

They paused.

“Please,” said Brick, gesturing to her. “After you.”

Jo grumbled a bit, rolling her eyes but not objecting to his offer. As she adjusted her pillow to support her neck, she said, “I was gonna ask how your jog was. Must’ve been a short 8k if you’re not panting like a dog.”

Brick rubbed the back of his neck. He wondered if Jo would be disappointed, too, if she learned that he gave up part of the way through; she wasn’t one to appreciate quitters. But honesty was the best policy, and he refused to lie to her.

“Yeah, I… didn’t complete my run.”

Jo quirked a brow. “Don’t tell me you sprained something too.” As if to demonstrate, she bobbed her injured ankle up and down on its pillow. “It’s bad enough I’m out of commission. Unless the team pushes Sky and Lightning to work double-time, the both of us down would be a next-level SNAFU.”

Even though Jo didn’t use the right military acronym to describe that situation, her effort made him smile. Brick felt a spark of hope that maybe -- just maybe -- she was okay with him being around after all. He refused get carried away, though; he didn’t wish to overstay his welcome. “No, I didn’t sprain anything. It just that jogging is less interesting without a capable rival to race.”

“Sky. Lightning. Jasmine. Shawn, if you’re feeling adventurous,” Jo listed off, her tone turning lofty. “Ever think to ask them?”

Brick’s hopes flickered out with a wince and a swallow. “Well, uh… no,” he admitted, hunching a little and rubbing his arm. “I like jogging with you.”

His tone must have sounded more tender than he intended because Jo’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Her cheeks went red -- from embarrassment or anger, he couldn’t quite tell -- and Brick realized too late the nature of how she interpreted him.

“Uh, I mean,” he sputtered, feeling his own face heat up, “not in a weird way, ma’am, I promise! It’s just that--.”

“Don’t!” Jo splayed one hand over her face and waved the other around. “Just-- never mind. Drop the subject. What is it you wanted to say?”

Brick fidgeted, feeling very much like he had just made a misstep in a minefield. The drumming discomfort in his chest was now worse than before. Nonetheless, he cleared his throat, put on a brave face, and found the will to reply.

“Just that I won’t bother you if you still need to rest. I wanted to apologize for a few things, but your health and recovery come first. Say the word and I’ll go.”

Jo’s eyebrows rose from under her hand before she pulled it back, revealing her face. It was still a bit red, but her brow and lips were quirked with intrigue. “No… no, you’re not going anywhere. Apologize for what? The hell did you do?”

Brick steeled himself before addressing the next thing on his list. “I feel partially responsible for giving you food poisoning,” he confessed. “If we didn’t have our eating contest, you wouldn’t have gotten sick and had so much trouble in the challenge, let alone spent so much time in the infirmary.”

To his astonishment, Jo met his words with a relaxed shrug. “Yeah, well, my fault for not yakking it up sooner. Don’t beat yourself up for my blunder, maggot.”

Brick blinked and took a step back. _She doesn’t blame me?_ That alone was a relief and a pleasant surprise, but her reaction was dumbfounding. He couldn’t have dreamed it, could he? Because it just sounded like she, Jo, _the_ Jo, with all her confidence and skills, had just admitted to making a mistake like it was nothing. Brick thought that she would have had to push against an internal barrier to do that -- one like that which she’d cross to apologize, like in the cafeteria the other morning. But this…?

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Brick said, standing to attention, wondering why his heart began to pound.

Jo’s eyes seemed to scan his frame before lingering on his face. Brick sucked in a sharp, quiet breath, unsure what to make of that. He watched, rigid, as she sat up and nudged her tray off of her lap and towards the edge of the bed. “Good,” she muttered. “And what else?”

…Uh oh. Even with all the time he spent bracing himself for this, Brick didn’t feel prepared. His teeth clenched and his whole body went stiff. The thumping of his heart grew louder and more discordant. And, to top it off, even though he couldn’t see himself, he knew his face was far redder than hers. Still, he had to say it. This was coming out, ready or not. For the sake of disclosure. For the sake of his sanity.

He stepped forward again. “S-sorry for, well…” Brick stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, all too aware of the pounding in his ears as he tried and failed to maintain his calm. “I’m sorry for putting you in such an awkward position during the relay race, ma’am. With, uh, the carrying. And being rough while lifting you up. And making you motion sick. And--.”

Jo leaned forward and flicked his nose.

Brick squeaked. He crossed his eyes and pulled back, rubbing his stinging face.

“Shut it. You know how I said not to beat yourself up? That wasn’t a request, Brick-for-brains; that was a goddamn order.” Brick’s eyes flicked back to Jo, who crossed her arms and gave him a slightly softer version of her signature scowl. “We did what we had to. It’s not like you slung me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes or -- worse -- carried me like some girly princess in a wedding gown. Rough handling? Whatever; we had to move. And, whether I liked it or not, the nausea was gonna get worse anyway, so just… shut it, okay? Do _not_ beat yourself up.”

Brick was speechless. He pulled his hand away from his nose, his jaw slack and brows up high. Warmth lingered on his cheeks. As Jo adjusted herself to face Brick, she sent him a grumpy pout which turned the pounding in his chest into a strange but welcoming tremor.

“It was a nice hustle, cadet,” she huffed. “You did your team proud.”

{*}

Normally, Jo wouldn’t have been comfortable with this. After all, she wasn’t exactly the type to sit down and reassure people when they believed they were in the wrong, nor was she known for phrasing things with tact. To make matters weirder, this was also a situation Jo could have easily seized and used to her advantage: to manipulate Brick into trusting her and becoming her ally in every way but name. But it didn’t feel like that at all. No.

This felt strangely genuine, much like the dopey smile on Brick’s stupid friendly face.

 _It’s just because I owe him one for making sure my ass wasn’t on the chopping block,_ she reasoned as she clutched her stomach, willing its wobbling to stop. _It’s not the end of the world to shoot some praise for lending a hand to the best player on his team. I said my piece, life can go on, and I’ll keep watching out for number one. That’s all._

But just as Jo’s spinning mind came to this conclusion after a full assessment, Brick placed his hand on her shoulder and spoke with just the sort of sweetness to throw her for a loop. “Thanks, Jo.”

Oh, god. Jo’s allergies must have been worse than she thought if their effects could be spurned by more than just mere memories. His touch and how he said her name sent a spark down her spine in a way that startled her and stirred up horrendous, confusing flutters. Thankfully, Jo’s reactive nature and will to look strong ensured -- as far as she knew -- that Brick would be blissfully unaware. Now wasn’t the time to stumble around and wonder why these cursed sensations plagued her.

Jo rolled her eyes and pulled off his hand, shrugging away the cold absence of his touch. His wrist was broad and warm, but Jo tried to pay it no mind; she busied herself by using it to teasingly poke at his chest with his own hand. “Ah-ah-ah,” she smirked. “That’s _ma’am_ to you, Brickhouse. Or _captain._ Actually, let’s go with that. I’m a kickass leader.”

Was it just her, or did Brick’s face turn red? She wasn’t sure why it would; her compliment was directed towards herself this time. Meh. Could’ve been a trick of the light.

But Jo’s attention was scattered when Brick chuckled like he hadn’t a care in the world: a laugh which (strictly coincidentally) synched up with Jo’s stomach tumbling in her gut. He saluted at her, and in doing so pulled his arm out from under her touch. At once, the cool air hit Jo’s palm -- an unpleasant sensation she deliberately ignored in favor of listening to his reply. Continuing their banter and keeping face were Jo’s top priorities.

“Aye-aye, captain!” Brick hummed.

Joy and enthusiasm were plain on his face, almost like he was a dumb puppy. Jo rolled her eyes, but her playful smirk betrayed her. “At ease, soldier. I’m just telling it as it is, and as it is, you did good. Let’s not wear it out, now. I’m just surprised you had life in your afterburners.”

That last comment was intended to be a quip. She expected a response of modest wit -- one which leaned on soldierly seriousness with an edge of boyish play. You know, the usual sort of thing given the nature of their one-on-one chats.

But instead, Brick gestured to her and spoke without a hint of irony. His smile and words alike were earnest, companionable, and true.

“Well, I got it from racing with the best.”

At that very moment, Jo’s heart thudded with a single, sudden _thump_. It was so loud in her ears and so rough in her chest that she involuntarily gripped her sheets until her knuckles turned white. Jo smothered a gasp but kept her outward cool, waving it off and continuing their talk with words she wouldn’t recall. It wasn’t ideal; in a perfect world, she would have damn well kept full focus on the moment and let the horrifying and strangely-timed pulse of her heart be forgotten, lost to the shadows of her subconscious. As it was, it lurked in her mind, and Jo was left with only one question:

 _What the living_ fuck _was that?_

{*}

Dawn meditated behind the Magpies’ cabin, her eyes closed and her body at ease in the quarter lotus position. She had a good feeling about this spot; it radiated an inspiring energy today, one which was positively pink.

However, she could sense that a well-intentioned interruption was approaching.

“Good morning, Cameron,” Dawn hummed, opening her eyes and smiling at her teammate.

He paused for a moment, quirking a curious brow. Dawn was no mind reader, but with the cyan inquisitiveness all over his aura, she assumed Cameron was wondering how she had known it was him with her eyes closed. He didn’t comment, though. Instead, he bit his lip and pulled out his notepad, tilting his head at her with a shy and nervous frown.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like next chapter there will be a little conversation between Dawn and Cameron! I wonder what Cam wants to talk about. *wink, wink*
> 
> It's a necessary change of pace, but don't worry; we'll be sliding back to Jo and Brick soon enough... and we'll get to see the next challenge Chris has in store for the campers! Who knows? That chapter miiiiight just involve our protagonists working together again. *WINK, WINK*
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you so much for reading!


	7. To Say Their Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dawn and Cameron pool their observations and discuss matters of the heart –- though the heart being discussed is neither of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few of you guys commented on my last chapter saying y'all have had trouble finding Jock stories. That's actually the main reason I began writing this fic. I found maybe a handful of really nice oneshots, but there weren't that many and I was dying for more (and longer) fics featuring this ship. Especially slow burn; it's my favorite for romance-driven plots! But I couldn't find anything like that at all, so I said -- screw it -- someone's gotta do it. Might as well be me, right?
> 
> Also, I learned recently that Brick's canon bio states that he actually views Chef's cooking as his favorite, which conflicts with the first few chapters of this story. To reconcile this, I've decided that, for the purposes of this fanfiction, his favorite food is Chef's ACTUAL cooking. Like the kind Chef showcases at the end of Total Drama Action! This way it shouldn't contradict with Brick's disgust at Chef's cooking for the general competition in the earlier chapters of this fic. I hope you guys are okay with that compromise!
> 
> Anyway, enough babbling. Without further ado: enjoy!

“Comfortable?” Dawn asked as she cracked an eye open, scanning Cameron’s quarter lotus position. He sat on a patch of soft grass, examining her in return and adjusting himself to better match her stance, one she maintained on a fallen log. Dawn gave him a gentle smile. She had a feeling that Cameron would ease some more from sitting this way, and -- as she predicted -- he did. It was evident by the softening of the swirl patterns in his aura, which indicated a release of tension.

“Indeed,” Cameron grinned, though he still seemed sheepish. “This is more relaxing than I had anticipated. Sorry if this comes across as ignorant, but I was under the impression that meditation posture on its own didn’t promote ease.”

For a moment, Dawn was quiet as she considered what she sensed about Cameron. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and replied. “Meditation is used to regulate oneself in both the mind and the body,” she murmured. “The comfort of the body is necessary for the comfort of the mind, and vice versa. Simply putting oneself in the meditative pose they prefer can ease them simultaneously, as peace with one leads to peace with the other.”

She couldn’t see him with her eyes closed, but Dawn pictured Cameron nodding. “That makes sense,” he said. “There are a number of studies linking mood with posture.”

“Many of which you’ve read.”

There was a pause. “Y-yes. How did you know that?”

“It’s in your aura; its texture is like parchment. You’ve been studying neurochemistry, disposition, and behavior for years, seeking ways to bolster your confidence and self-love.”

She paused when she realized he would be uncomfortable with her response; that, and his being an intellectual who would be skeptical of aura-reading didn’t help. Dawn opened her eyes. Cameron was eyeing her, fretful, his mouth agape. There was a momentary prick of worry in Dawn’s chest before she leaned down, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I promise I won’t tell another soul.”

Cameron’s eyes wandered to Dawn’s hand, then to her face, and then he shook his head as if breaking himself from a trance. “It’s-- it’s okay. You’re just… very observant. To a remarkable degree, I might add.”

Dawn knew Cameron still didn’t believe in auras, but that was okay. The compliment, though derived from an anxious and confused place, had a genuine edge. She smiled at him and pulled her hand back. “That means a lot coming from you. You’re quite observant as well.” At that, Dawn tilted her head, her gaze drawn to the spiral notepad nestled on Cameron’s lap. “And, if I’m not mistaken, that’s what brought you here to me.”

Cameron chuckled nervously. He picked up the notepad and took a deep breath, which -- along with his posture -- seemed to help him stay relaxed. “Right again. It actually had to do with a comment you made the other day. About Jo’s… aura?”

Dawn’s brows raised. She attributed her ability to sense auras to a combination of synesthesia and the mindfulness she gained from years of practiced meditation, but this didn’t let her actively read minds or see an individual’s past or future. They were more like colors and patterns that offered interpretable insight into the trends of a person’s life, or even the direction of their thoughts or mood; specifics were left on the wayside, to be discovered if given the chance. And, of the few things she had anticipated Cameron might come to her to discuss, this was not one of them.

“I was under the impression that you didn’t believe in auras.” When Cameron grimaced like a child caught lying, Dawn smiled softly. “And it’s okay if you don’t. I know it’s a bizarre thing to wrap a logical mind around.”

Cameron hesitated for a second before he took another breath. A gentle breeze passed that moment, and Dawn could feel that Pahkitew Island -- despite its artificial creation -- was now alive with a pleasant and natural energy. Cameron puffed his chest a bit and nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “As of right now, I don’t have sufficient evidence to confidently believe in auras. But you mentioned a color and pattern that are allegedly present where Jo’s and Brick’s would overlap. Bluebell filigree, correct?”

Dawn nodded, but frowned. “Right,” she said, “but we may want to keep it down. They’re in the dorms right now.”

Cameron paused, putting a hand over his mouth. “Oh-- sorry!” He lowered his voice. “It, uh… anyway, it struck me as an oddly specific combination, but an intriguing one considering Jo’s behavior over the past week.”

Now that Dawn was confident that Brick and Jo wouldn’t overhear, she smiled, her eyes wide and curious. She wasn’t the best at picking up on finer details; to know that Cameron, a guy who was far better at doing so, was about to share some with her and perhaps support her theory was strangely exciting. She clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “Oh?”

Cameron pulled a pencil out from his hoodie’s pocket and began underlining, starring, or circling notes as he spoke. “Well, Jo has always acted a bit differently around Brick. I noticed this to an extent back during _Revenge of the Island,_ but it’s become more pronounced as of late.”

“Such as?” Dawn grinned.

“Well, a number of things. As I said, they were more subtle last time we were on the show, and still are to a degree, but I’ve picked up on a trend of divergences between Jo’s behavior around Brick versus other contestants. This includes but is not limited to,” Cameron said, emphasizing each item in the list with a tap of his pencil eraser, “more relaxed body language and facial expressions; greater frequency and genuineness in smiles; insults or nicknames delivered at times in a facetious manner; less resistance when expressing praise; and even a greater degree of humility.”

Dawn’s eyebrows nearly rose off of her head at that last one. “Pardon?”

“He’s the only person on this show that Jo has apologized to. Twice.” Cameron held up two fingers. “Once after joining the Toxic Rats, and once in the cafeteria the other morning.”

At that, Dawn leaned back and breathed a relieved and happy sigh. So far, all of this information added just the sort of finer details she needed to help complete the picture of what she could sense: a satisfying thing indeed. “I see. Thanks for clarifying, Cameron.”

He grinned. “No problem. And actually, I hope you don’t mind, but I would like to take this opportunity to segue into discussing what you observed. Is that all right with you?”

Dawn’s smile took on an amused edge. “Of course it is. No need to be so formal.”

“Right,” Cameron chuckled, looking abashed. “Sorry.”

He adjusted his glasses and looked back to his notepad, flipping through the pages and stopping at one with a T-chart. Dawn couldn’t read most of Cameron’s small, scrawling text from here, but she saw that the first column was prefaced with _bluebell_ and the second with _filigree_ _._

 _“Bluebell_ references a specific shade of violet-blue characteristic of the _Hyacinthoides_ genus of flowers,” Cameron began. “While the color itself doesn’t evoke feelings or imagery, its namesake has long been a symbol of determination, modesty, loyalty, and true love.”

Dawn beamed.

Without witnessing her expression, Cameron continued. “Meanwhile, _filigree_ references a form of metalwork in which small beads and/or threads are soldered together in an artistic pattern. Many fine details are considered with each intricate layer, as filigree jewelry is made by building up its precious metals instead of by engraving or chiseling.”

He paused. Dawn watched his cerulean aura grow pale.

“…Which, come to think of it, may be a stretch to link back to Jo. What I was thinking might be too finicky or girly for her.” His brows furrowed and he turned to Dawn with a disheartened pout. “Never mind, Dawn. Maybe I wasn’t onto something after all.”

As Cameron spoke, Dawn’s smile fell into a contemplative neutral. She thought for a moment before standing up, holding out her hand to him. “Come with me,” she said. “There’s something I want to show you.”

{*}

Cameron adjusted his glasses against the glare of the morning sun. He and Dawn hadn’t walked that far from camp -- they couldn’t have been more than half a kilometer away -- but stepping into this area of Pahkitew Island, one could have sworn they were in the heart of nature. A small waterfall flowed down a weathered boulder into a stream which curled towards the island’s shore. Clovers and dandelions swayed in the eastern breeze. Distant birds chirped seasonal calls; they were impossible to see beyond the spotty canopy, but were still fascinating to hear.

Dawn strode forth elegantly towards the falls. With ethereal swiftness, she sat once more in the quarter lotus pose, her back to Cameron and face towards the boulder. In the spots where her hair reflected the light, it took on a warm, white glow.

“Here we are,” she hummed. “The perfect place to share one’s heart.”

Cameron gulped. Even though he had competed in and won a season of _Total Drama_ before, being surrounded by wilderness instead of the comfort of his home still made him feel out of his element. Furthermore, Dawn’s mannerisms struck him as foreign and somewhat unsettling -- from her uncanny observational skills to her love of pseudoscientific phenomena. Even though Cameron could tell she was trying not to unnerve him, she didn’t always succeed.

He hesitated, not sure if Dawn wanted him to approach any more; but, the moment the thought crossed his mind, he saw her look over her shoulder, smile sweetly, and pat the ground in front of her.

“Don’t be shy; take a seat. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to assume the meditative pose again.” Cameron opened his mouth to ask why, but she preemptively answered him. “I feel it may help you relax. This all must seem rather strange to you.”

 _No kidding,_  Cameron thought before he could help it. Outwardly, he nodded and drew near, slow and unsure.

“I take it we’re out here because we could have been overheard?” he asked, tentative.

Dawn nodded. “This is a matter of the workings of one’s soul,” she said as she began to fish in her pocket. “Better safe than sorry, especially when we aren’t discussing our own.”

Something about the way she said that made Cameron shiver. He got the feeling Dawn wasn’t fully conscious of how weird and sometimes creepy her behavior came across as. Then again, he wasn’t known for social grace, either; perhaps it was a compromise for their demonstrable awareness. In fact, this is part of what drove him to talk to Dawn in the first place. He wished to learn more about both her and her supposed “aura-reading.” With how she presented them, her abilities seemed merely like an eccentric explanation for her incredible deductions, but Cameron wondered if observational evidence could yield insight into her Holmesian level of perception.

Also, though he wasn’t on the best terms with Jo, he wasn’t lying. It was intriguing to have his own observations connect so curiously with Dawn’s. Well… up to a point. The filigree thing may have been spottier than he imagined, but considering the circumstance, he imagined Dawn was about to change his mind -- or at least try.

He rested his back against the weathered boulder, about a meter away from where the waterfall trickled. As he did, Dawn retrieved what she was looking for: a cracked piece of coarse-grained ceramic about the size of her palm. Cameron discerned by its color, pattern, and concavity that this shard originated from one of the cafeteria’s bowls. Its shape and rough edges suggested it fractured transgranularly under about 2.7 megapascals of pressure. It also resembled a heart. The symbol, that is -- not the organ.

“This,” Dawn murmured, “is from a bowl Jo shattered less than an hour ago during an emotional peak. When she wasn’t paying attention, I slipped it in my pocket.” She brushed lint off of it with her thumb, her pale eyes hardening in concentration. “I sensed it would teach me more about her if I acted fast. It contains a little sample of who she is -- for now, at least. Not to worry. It will wane and return to her within the day, and in the meantime, she won’t feel its absence.”

There was a pause. Cameron stared at Dawn, then the shard, then Dawn once more. A number of eloquent, unasked questions passed his mind before she spoke again. The two most prominent ones were _what?_ and _huh?_

As Dawn studied the shard, she continued. “I think Jo’s spirit is a lot like this. Rough around the edges, tough to approach without fearing scrapes and scratches. Its expression is… curved, despite how firm it is. It implies a facade of straightforwardness for someone who beats around her feelings. Which makes sense, I think. That feels like Jo to me.”

About halfway through Dawn’s analysis, Cameron remembered he still had his notepad. With a flourish of paper and pencil, he jotted down bullet points of Dawn’s most interesting notes. But, after a moment, he realized she was no longer talking. Cameron looked up to see her gazing into him. He felt the sudden urge to respond, but he wasn’t sure what kind of reply she was expecting, or if there was even a right kind of reply at all. The first thing that came to mind was, “What does this have to do with the filigree pattern?”

For a moment, Cameron thought Dawn might be offended at the blunt transition to this question -- he didn’t want to seem like he was pushing for an answer -- but instead, her eyes sparkled as she spoke. “It’s a lot like you said! Filigree is about building up and onto a foundation. But I’m sure it’s not there to represent a finicky or girly personality; it’s more like a mosaic. Moments which connect to Jo’s feelings. Since the pattern responds to Brick in particular, it means her feelings for him -- and how he reacts to them -- is a prominent force building upon her emotional foundation, one little bead and twist at a time. That’s special, you know. Jo has never been one to let people in.”

Cameron wrote this down hastily. Then he paused. He scanned his notes one more time, cross-referencing them with the ones he took earlier. The implications were clear. They aligned with his theory too well.

“So….”

He paused for a moment, debating whether he should bring it up. Cameron took a long, deep breath. Sitting there, in that tranquil setting, in that relaxing and meditative pose, bolstered his will to take the chance.

“So she _does_ have a crush on him, then?”

Up until this point, this theory of his was one he never referenced for a number of reasons. One, he didn’t know who on Pahkitew Island he’d tell; two, he worried the others might laugh him off; and three, he feared Jo would find out and turn him into jerky. He wasn’t even sure he was doing the right thing by sharing it with Dawn. But at the question, she cracked a smile. It was wry and knowing and for a moment, Cameron forgot how to breathe.

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! With that, I've successfully burned through most of my buffer. Later chapters may take a little longer to write, as my work hours have more than doubled recently, but don't worry! I'm still working on this when I can!
> 
> I'm off to play the rest of the day. It's time to celebrate another successful orbit around the sun!
> 
> (Bonus points for anyone who catches a reference to a recent, somewhat popular Kickstarter video.)


End file.
